Page 13 of Nineteen Seventy-Six

Noah held up his hands. “I don’t know anything about it. Sorry.”

“Colleen does,” Charles pressed.

“Colleen and Catherine are not friends, as far as I know.”

“Did I say they were?”

“Seems to me you’re grasping at straws,” Noah said. He leaned forward. “Look, I know Colin Sullivan. He’s a good guy. If I hear anything, I’ll tell him. But you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

He had half a mind to call Augustus. Augustus would make this Irish mick asshole spill his guts about this and every other sin he’d ever committed.

But Augustus deserved a break from fixing everyone else’s problems. According to Elizabeth, he was barely holding his own life together.

“Am I?”

Noah’s laugh was far from amused. “Why would Colleen know anything about where Colin’s wife is?”

“You tell me.”

Noah threw out his hands. “We done?”

“For now.”

Noah stood, reaching into his wallet for some cash. He threw a five on the table. “Don’t bother Colleen about this again. She’s got enough to deal with, and I won’t have anyone adding to her stress.” He frowned and then added, “Please.”

Charles watched Noah leave, more than ever convinced that his sister and brother-in-law knew a lot more than they were letting on.

CHAPTER 4

Somebody to Love

The wedding of Patrick Sullivan to his longtime love, Isabella Livingston, was held at Destrehan plantation, down St. Charles Parish. Charles remarked offhand that he had a better plantation to offer them and wouldn’t even have charged a cent, but Destrehan was only forty minutes from the city, where Ophélie was well over an hour.

Charles nodded at the explanation, satisfied, but Augustus knew better. Patrick, like every other Sullivan, it seemed, except Colin, knew Charles’ role in the troubled marriage between Colin and Catherine, and wasn’t about to receive a handout from a homewrecker.

The weather was unseasonably warm, even for the subtropical South, so Augustus purchased extra sun protection for Anasofiya’s pram, as well as a mosquito net to drape over the open area. She was too young for him to know whether or not she’d have any kind of allergic reaction to bites, and although the last yellow fever case was in 1905, one could never be too careful. There were also bees to consider.

Elizabeth stuck to his side as if glued there, and Connor followed suit, flanking his other side. Every time he tried to tell her this wasn’t necessary, she fired back with a range of comebacks he lacked the emotional fortitude to challenge. She wasn’t hurting anything, he supposed. She’d started to understand his need for boundaries, and no longer pushed so hard against them.

After the first sad, sympathetic glance from a wedding-goer, Augustus knew coming to this wedding was a bad idea. He’d had his reservations from the moment the invitation arrived. Bringing Ana out of the house, making her ride in a car for so long, had its own risks, but well-meaning friends and family would undoubtedly try to force Augustus into unwelcome conversation and false platitudes surrounding the fate of his late wife. He’d already promised himself the topic was off-limits. Not only with others, but himself.

Where Ana was concerned, she would know only that Ekatherina had never wanted anything more in her life than a daughter, and was, of course, watching over her from heaven.

“That kid is so stinkin’ cute,” Connor remarked as Rory and Carolina both lifted toddler Clancy with their hands, laughing as he smiled and kicked at the air. “I’ve missed him.”

Augustus should go talk to them. To Carolina, especially, who still asked after him, from time to time.

Instead, he navigated the baby carriage in another direction.

“Not gonna say hi?” Elizabeth asked, keeping up. He shot her a sidelong glance. She already knew the answer.

“Let’s go find seats.”

“No one else is finding seats,” Elizabeth challenged.

“Are we everyone else, Elizabeth?”

“No, Dad,” she huffed, but went on ahead to see about finding their spots.

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